


Marriage of Convenience

by LazySundayMusings



Category: Peter Kay's Car Share (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazySundayMusings/pseuds/LazySundayMusings
Summary: A man's shed is his...  confessional?
Relationships: Kayleigh Kitson/John Redmond
Kudos: 3





	Marriage of Convenience

Saturday, five-twenty pm, the small shed behind the small Bury house

“Just take them with you,” Steve was saying. “Easier all round.”  
“Why can’t you just go inside and watch them?”  
“Because we’re about to be up to our knees in gears and grease and can’t leave this unfinished. And since you won’t let me haul everything into the kitchen, we’re having to do this out here.”  
“All right, all right.” Mandy’s eyes flicked to John and back again. “Don’t forget the other thing, yeah?”  
“I won’t,” said Steve. “See you back here in a bit.”

Steve caught John’s eye just as he was about to speak and shook his head.  
There was a brief wait until the distinctive sound of an over-revved Citroen brought a smile to the face of both men.

“What grease?” asked John as the sound of the Citroen began to fade away.  
“I was bullshitting. I wanted a chat. But first - the “other thing” Mandy mentioned was for me to find out what the real story is with you and Cath Hilton. Seems Kayleigh’s getting herself in a tizzy about her.”  
“Oh, God. Not again.”  
“Exactly. So. She’s your mate?”  
“She is.”  
“You’ve known her, what? Ten years?”  
“Thirteen, now.”  
“And you split years ago?”  
“We did.”  
“Good enough. Moving on.” He pointed to John’s mug. “Refill?”  
“Please.”

Once Steve had sorted John’s tea he got himself another beer from the small fridge under the bench. “There’s something you should know. About me.”  
“Something you want to get off your chest?”  
“Not exactly. But some of it won’t be easy to hear.”  
“Okay...”  
“And you can’t tell anyone. At all. Not Kayleigh, not your family, not your priest, not your God. No one. Understand?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t... you haven’t killed someone, have you?”  
Steve looked horrified. “What? No! Hurt a few people in fights and stuff when I was young. And they all deserved it, but nothing more than that.”  
“All right. Not a word.”  
“Thank you.” Then Steve was quiet for a moment as he contemplated his beer.

John was about to prompt him but Steve started to speak. “Do you remember back before Christmas when Alfie started acting up and Mandy did nothing about it?” He took a slow, deep breath. “How she treated me like a nobody in my own house?”  
“Yes...?” said a now-wary John.  
“Things hadn’t been good for a while before that, but her tolerating his noise and behaviour just made it ten times worse.” Another deep breath. “Do you know how many mornings I headed off to work on the motorbike and wondered if I should just not come back?”  
“Wait. What?”  
“Most of them.”  
John’s jaw dropped.  
Steve was nodding. “One Saturday I got as far as Middlesborough. A different day it was Birmingham. Both times it was on impulse, both times I stopped in a little cafe or whatever in the middle of nowhere and took some time to think about what I was doing. Both times I turned around and came back. And both times it was to more of the same.”  
He paused.  
“And it was that second time that did it. I made up my mind to leave, even though it meant shifting out of my own house. All I had to do was work out when to go. Didn’t care where I ended up, as long as it was somewhere other than here.”

John looked from Steve to the house and back to Steve. “But...”

“But I couldn’t find the right time to leave. So I took the next-best option and spent more time at work. Put my hand up for early starts and as much weekend-work as possible so I’d be away from here as long as possible. The extra money was good. The peace and quiet was better. But the best bit was the satisfaction that I got from tearing down an engine and putting it back together, proving to myself that I could make it work. Knowing there are still some things I have control over, things I can actually fix. Do you get what I mean?”  
“I think so. That you’re not stuck watching while all this stuff happens to you, do you mean?”  
“Yeah. Pretty much.”  
Steve glanced back at the house before continuing.

“So all I was doing was working and waiting. Waiting for the right time to leave.  
And then it’s a Wednesday when we all get together and have a couple of quiets in the cafeteria at the end of the day. I’d spent the day up to me elbows in engine parts and wanted to keep going as long as possible rather than come home - but they were shutting everything down so I had to give it away and get cleaned up. When I went into the cafeteria I headed over to the main counter where one of the temps was guarding all the beers. And she turns to me and says “What’ll it be, Steve?”  
Now, I’d never spoken to her and had no idea how she knew me, but just pointed to the bottle in her hand and said “A cold one of those, if there’s any left.”  
And she just handed it to me, saying “I’ve only just opened it, haven’t drunk any” and got something different for herself. And I’m looking at her, and she just said “You look like you could really use that right now.” Then tells me there’s only a couple left but she’s moved them out of sight for safe keeping. And winks at me.”

“Nice of her.”

“Very. So. It’s a bit later, I’ve been talking to the guys about - some bloody thing - and she wanders over with two bottles of that beer and hands me one saying it’s the very last one.  
And we end up chatting away about everything and nothing, as you do, and then she just leans in and asks if I’m okay, says I’m looking a bit lost or something.  
Now. She doesn’t know me, has no business asking me that, and I’ve got no business telling her, but I did. And after I’ve told her most of what had gone on with Alfie and all the stress and whatever, she says something like “Is that why you’ve been putting in the long hours?” She’d been doing the time sheets and my hours were massive compared to everyone else, and she’d wondered. She didn’t judge me or comment - she just listened. So. We go back to chatting about nothing-much, and - you know how you can be chatting with someone for a while and you end up standing a bit closer to them than you usually would? And you both realise it but don’t move away? Well, we’re now standing close together, and I tell her that her perfume smells great, and she’s smiling, and all I could think about is how much I wanted to touch her, so I slipped my hand inside her coat and rested it on her hip.  
And she’s smiling.  
So I moved my hand around to her lower back.  
And she’s still smiling.  
So I helped myself to a big handful of her arse.  
And she stopped smiling.  
And I’m thinking “Oh, fuck,” but before I could let go she pushed backwards so my hand was caught between her and the wall. The way we were standing, with her in a long coat meant it wasn’t obvious to anyone else what was going on. And there we stood - chatting away while I’m holding her fantastic little arse and looking down her front. You know how you can say nothing to someone but still have something going on, just by looking?”

John was now shifting uncomfortably. “Yes...?”

“So we’re standing like that for a while, and then she casually mentions that she’s going to have to go shortly because her boyfriend will be coming by to pick her up. Which was a shock, believe me. But then she finished up by saying something about us having to do it again some time.”  
“Christ. So what did you do?”  
“What do you think I did? I took my time finishing my beer, killed time until the boss kicked us all out so he could lock up then came home, didn’t I? To more of the same shit.  
But what I didn’t do was go ahead and pack some things like I’d decided to do that morning.”  
“Oh, yeah,” he added at John’s expression, “I had finally decided. That was going to be my last day in this house. I was going to head south the next morning and never come back.”

John took a moment to process what he’d just heard.  
“So that was enough to get you to stay, then? Grabbing yourself a handful of some temp’s arse?”  
“No, no - it was getting to fuck her almost every day until just before Christmas.”  
John’s jaw dropped.  
“First time was a motel room, then the Sick Bay at work, back of a work-car once or twice, the boss’ office, all over.  
But not at hers or here. Neighbours, you see?”  
John could only stare.  
“Because she wanted me, all right?” said Steve in response to John’s unasked question. “A twenty-something year-old with a tight little body wanted ME.” He jabbed his thumb at the house. “All I was getting here was attitude and abuse.”

He knocked back the last of his beer and got himself another.

“I did think about calling it off, thought I was pushing my luck. But then, see - this is where you come in - by then Alfie’d been grounded, right? But not because of how he’d been acting for all that time. It was because you pointed out that he’d lied to Mandy. And because Kayleigh saw him giving you the fingers or whatever. Nothing to do with him acting up and not respecting me all that time.  
And that’s when it hit me. That things here probably won’t be getting any better. But I’m okay with it now.”  
“Wait. What?”  
“You don’t get it, do you?”  
“I thought I did, right until you said that.”  
“I thought my lot in life was to put up with all the grief I was getting until I couldn’t take it any more and had to leave for the sake of my sanity. But I don’t, because I look like this and live like this and still got to spend lots of quality time on top of a gorgeous blonde half my age.”  
John’s blank look was back.  
“If it happened before without me even trying, it can happen again if I make an effort. Now do you get it?”  
John looked at Steve, really looked. And then realised.  
“So, your haircut, the beard trim,” - his eyes shifted - “you wearing gloves when you’re working on the oily bits...?”  
Steve was nodding. “All part of it. Mandy’s decided it was her doing, having nagged me about it for so long, but, no. Might as well bait my own hook, right?”

John took a moment. “But...”  
“What?”  
“Didn’t you say it was just until Christmas? This thing with the temp?”  
“Yep.”  
“It’s just that...”  
“What?”  
“Well,” - John cleared his throat - “Kayleigh said it seems that you and Mandy are... getting on a lot better lately.”  
“Oh, that,” said Steve with a hint of a smile that quickly faded. “That’s basically because there’s some big costs coming up. Not because of anything else that I can see.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Maybe I’m wrong, but right now I don’t see it being anything other than Mandy trying to keep me on-side because of those bills.”

John was now shaking his head. “Steve - I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”  
“It’s in case I do leave one day. If it gets to the point where I just can’t take it any more, at least someone will understand why. And it won’t be the Kitson womens’ version where the three of them gang up on me, make me out to be the bad guy and that’s all anyone knows. Or thinks they know, anyway.”

“Huh. So. That, um, that temp...”  
“Kim.”  
“...Yeah. Are you two still...?”  
“No. Not since Christmas like I said. Her agency got her work in Hyde. But we keep in touch.”  
“Oh. Is she your backup?”  
“My what?”  
“Someone you stay on friendly terms with. In case something changes down the line and you’re hoping you can just pick up from where you left off.”  
“That was the idea but it’s a bit impractical, what with where she’s working now.”  
“So would you?”  
“If she worked closer and things weren’t any better around here, you mean? In a heartbeat, mate.”

John was quiet for a long time as he simply looked at the man whom he now thought of as more of a stranger than ever before.

And then Steve spoke up. “My turn to ask you a question. Or two.”  
“Oh. Okay.”  
“About your mate Cath.”  
“...Yes?”  
“One of Kayleigh’s gripes is that you seem to spend up large on her. Something about lots of jewellery?”  
John sighed. “I bought Cath a pendant and earrings for her birthday. Her fortieth.”  
“Oh. She didn’t mention that part,” said Steve, scratching his chin.  
“Didn’t she? Well, it’s what I do. I buy jewellery for those big birthdays. Always have. Nana, Mum, my aunts - well, aunt, now, um, in-laws, Cath. It’s not a crime.”  
“No. No, it’s not. Well-”  
“And I got Kayleigh earrings for Christmas and all,” John interrupted.  
“You did,” said Steve. “Mandy’s a big fan of them, let me tell you.” But he didn’t, knowing fully-well that reliving the ensuing argument with Mandy would just get him angry all over again. So he moved on. “Anyway. Here’s what Kayleigh makes the most noise about. It’s basically about how you and Cath supposedly split up years ago but still seem to be living in each other’s pockets.”  
“We’re what?”  
“She’s thinking you and her are too close, that exes shouldn’t get on as well as you do.”  
“Hey. It’s not my fault that Kayleigh doesn’t get on with her exes.”  
“True enough. So.” Steve cleared his throat. “Are you fucking Cath, then?”  
“You what?!”  
“Or is she your backup, like you said before? Someone you stay on good terms with, in case something happens down the line and you want options?”  
John gritted his teeth. “It’s not like that with Cath.”  
“How is it then?”  
Silence.  
“Come on.”  
More silence.  
“Do you really think I’d tell anyone any of this after what I’ve just told you?”

John paused, then:  
“We don’t.  
Much.  
Any more.”

Steve arched an eyebrow.  
“We did,” John continued, “but haven’t for ages. And it wasn’t a regular thing. We weren’t each other’s “Wednesday Special” or anything like that. It was at Christmas and on our birthdays when we’d make an occasion of it. If that’s the right word. But also there’d be times - not many, but some - when we both, um, felt the need to get away for a while. So for a few days we’d go off together and try to make sense of things, or just leave the world behind.”

Steve was nodding. “I get that.”  
“Which part?”  
“Leaving the world behind for a while. Where you focus on what’s in front of you - who’s in front of you - and forget all the other shit as best you can in the short time you have together.”

And with that John realised that he and Steve weren’t so different after all.

********************

For the next few minutes John tried to steer the discussion in a different direction but Steve was on a roll.

“So I don’t feel guilty about it, and I won’t, either. My marriage is a lie. Has been for a while and through no fault of my own, either. It’s a common thing with the Kitson women and their men - they seem to make poor choices or just screw things up.”  
“Well, I’m quite happy with Kayleigh.”  
“And I was more than happy with Mandy until she picked sides. Her kids over me.”

Steve paused, waiting for a reaction but didn’t see one.

“You know they’re not mine, then?”  
“I do.”  
“What’d she say about it?”  
“Um, not much. Just that it sort-of ended.”

“Huh. The Kitson-approved version.”  
“The what?”  
“Mandy’s left hand. Ever notice how the last two fingers are curled up quite a bit?”  
“Um, yeah, actually.”  
“Do yours?”  
John had to look at his hand to be certain. “No.”  
“No. And neither did hers until he did his best to smash them that time.”  
“Wait. What? Who did what?”  
“The kids’ father was a bit of a basher. Not the kids, just her. But he wasn’t a drunk. It was always out of nowhere, just because he felt like doing it. And then he just didn’t bother going home one day.  
But they - the Kitsons - they don’t want anyone to know that. They would rather that people thought it simply didn’t work out, that it was just one of those things. Not that Mandy made huge mistakes and that the kids should run for the hills if he ever turns up in case he turns on them too.  
And here’s the thing. For the longest time I thought of him as a piece of shit who knocked her up, knocked her about then fucked off. And he is - for beating her up like he did. But I sometimes wonder, especially since Mandy started treating me like a second-rate citizen in my own fucking house” - he’d spat out the words - “maybe he left because of who Mandy is.”

Steve was quiet as he thought about what he’d just said, then looked up.

“Me thinking about leaving is not the same as what he did.”  
John had his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”  
“He was using her as an occasional punching bag in a shithouse-flat, but no one’s supposed to mention it. And yet, six years after bringing them into my home I’m suddenly not worthy of respect? Not from her or that little bastard of hers?  
Fucks’ sake!”

When Steve looked up again he noted the look of concern on John’s face, the way that John was looking at the beer bottle in Steve’s hand. So he opened the door, poured the remaining beer onto the grass and dropped the empty bottle into a bucket before returning to the bench.

“Sorry, mate. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about any of this. Not my parents, certainly not Mandy - I just really needed to vent. Sorry.”  
“You could try talking to a counselor,” John replied. “I went to one after my Dad died. Helped me a lot.”

Steve sighed. “Funny you should say that. Those big costs I talked about? Counseling for the kids when they get told some truths about their Dad. Not as many truths as I think they should be told, mind.  
But here’s the thing. Not once did Mandy think that maybe we - as in, me and her - maybe we should be talking to someone at the same time. No. She’s putting her kids first. And getting me to pay for it.”

********************

They both lost track of time as they avoided saying very much until they eventually heard the familiar sound of the over-revved Citroen. But this time neither man smiled.

They heard the gate open and close, followed by quick footsteps before the door was pushed open and Kayleigh leaned through. “Hey - we’re back with dinner... Oh. You’re not covered in muck, then?”  
“Nope. John saved the day.”  
“Oh.” A huge smile. “Well done, John. You're both coming in, right?”  
“Sure. We’ll just tidy this lot away and lock up.”  
“Should we put yours in the oven?”  
“No need - we won’t be that long.”  
“Right. See you in a bit.”

Steve waited for the sound of the back door being closed before he spoke again. “Obviously, we’re never going to repeat any of that, right?”  
“Right. But, what are you gonna say if Mandy asks about me and Cath?”  
Steve shrugged. “I hadn’t actually thought about that. Um, how long did you say you’d known each other? Twelve years?”  
“Thirteen.”  
“And when did you split up?”  
“Six years ago.”  
“Okay. Here’s what I’ll say: that you two have been apart for almost as long as we’ve been married, how that much time should count for something.” Then almost to himself: “Six years should definitely count for something.”

Steve then tilted his head as he looked at John. “And Kayleigh should just relax. Right?”  
John got his meaning immediately. “Look. You don’t know Cath. She’s not the type to let herself be set up as the next-best choice for anything. Or anyone. If I ever suggested something like that she’d just punch me.”  
Steve arched his eyebrows.  
“She’s hit me before. Outside work in front of customers and staff. Got the pair of us suspended for a week.”  
Steve whistled. “Really?”  
“Really. You do not keep Cath “on hold” while you sort your shit out.”  
Steve was nodding. “Message received. I’ll be sure to stay well away from YOUR Cath.”  
“That’s not what I was meaning.”  
“Uhuh. Sure you weren’t.”


End file.
